CHAPTER XXVIII
LA DAME AUX CAMELLIAS
"My dear, you _must_ go to this ball," said Sir Harry to his daughter,as they sat over their morning chocolate in a spacious room with a smallglazed stove, very handsome, very luxurious, and _very cold_. "You haveseen everything else here; you have been a good deal in society. I havetaken you everywhere, although you know how 'going out' bores me; andnow you refuse to go to the best thing of the year. My dear, you_must_!"
"But a masked ball, papa," urged Constance. "I never went to one in mylife; indeed, if you please, I had rather not."
"Nonsense, child, everybody goes; there's your friend Countess Valeriewild about it, and Victor, and even sober Vere Egerton, but of course_he_ goes in attendance on the young Countess--besides, Ropsley wishesit."
Constance flushed crimson, then grew white, and bit her lip. "CaptainRopsley's wishes have nothing to do with me, papa," said she, with morethan her usual stateliness; "I do not see what right he has to express awish at all."
Sir Harry rose from his chair; he was getting very feeble in his limbs,though he stoutly repudiated the notion that he grew a day older instrength and spirits. He walked twice across the room, went to hisdaughter's chair, and took her hand in his. She knew what was coming,and trembled all over.
"My dear child," said he, with a shaky attempt at calmness, and anervous quivering of his under lip--for loving, obedient, devoted as shewas; Sir Harry stood in awe of his daughter--"you remind me I wish tospeak to you on the subject of Captain Ropsley, and his intimacy withourselves. Constance, has it never occurred to you what all this musteventually lead to?"
She looked up at him with her clear, shining eyes, and replied--
"It has, papa, and I quite dread the end of it."
"You know, dear, how I have encouraged him," continued her father,without noticing the unpropitious remark; "you can guess my wisheswithout my speaking more plainly. He is an excellent fellow--clever,popular, agreeable, and good-looking. There can be no objection, ofcourse, on _your_ side. I think your old father has not done so badlyfor you after all--eh, Constance?" and Sir Harry made a feeble attemptat a laugh, which stopped, and, as it were, "went out" all of a sudden.
She looked him full in the face. Truth shone brightly in the depths ofthose clear eyes.
"Papa," said she, slowly and steadily, "do you really mean you wish meto--to marry Captain Ropsley?"
"You ladies jump at conclusions very fast," answered the Baronet, stillstriving, shakingly, to be jocose. "_Rem acu tetigisti_. Ha, ha! Ihave not forgotten my Latin, or that I was young once, my dear. Youhave run your needle into the very heart of the matter, you littlewitch! That is indeed my earnest wish and intention."
He changed at once into a tone of majestic and uncompromising decision,but he only looked at her askance, and once more left his place to ambleup and down the room. She never took her eye off his face.
"And suppose I should tell you, papa, that I cannot comply with yourwish; that I hate and loathe the very sight of the man whom you wouldmake my husband; that I fear and distrust his intimacy with you morethan anything in the world; that I implore you, papa, dear papa, to giveup this dreadful idea; that for this once, and once only, you wouldlisten to me, be guided by me, and, at any sacrifice, that you wouldbreak immediately and for ever with that bad, reckless, unprincipledman--what should you say then?"
She looked at him for an instant with a vague sort of half-hope in hertruthful, shining eyes; but it was more resignation than disappointmentthat clouded her face over immediately afterwards.
"Say, my dear," answered the Baronet, gaily, but his teeth were settight as he spoke; "why I should say that my girl was a romantic littlefool, instead of one of the cleverest women of my acquaintance; or, morelikely still, I should say she was joking, in order to try her father'spatience and indulgence to the utmost. Listen to me, Constance. I havereasons of my own for wishing to see you married--of course I mean wellmarried, and safely settled in life--never mind what they are; it may bethat I am getting old, and feel that I have not much time to lose.Well, I have promised you to Ropsley--of course with your own consent.In these days we don't lock up our refractory children, or use forcewhen persuasion alone is necessary. Heaven forbid!" Sir Harry said itwith an expression of countenance somewhat contradictory of hislanguage. "But I feel sure I need only point out to you what my wishesare to have your sincere co-operation. You behaved so well once before,you will behave well this time. Constance, I am not used to entreat;you cannot surely refuse me now?"
She burst into tears
"Oh, papa," she said, "anything--anything but this."
He thought to try the old sarcastic mood that had done him good servicewith many a woman before.
"What, we are premature, are we, Miss Beverley? We cannot forget olddays and childish absurdities. We must, of course, be more sensitivethan our boyish adorer. Psha! my dear, it's perfectly absurd; why, youcan see with your own eyes that Vere Egerton is hopelessly entangledwith that bold Hungarian girl, and I can tell you, to my certainknowledge, that he is to marry her forthwith. What she can see in hisugly face is more than I can make out; but this I suppose is prejudiceon my part. Good Heaven! Constance, are you really afraid of seeingthem together to-night? You! _my_ daughter! the proud Miss Beverley?"
The old reprobate knew how to manage a woman still. He had served a longapprenticeship to the trade, and paid pretty dearly for his lessons inhis time.
She did not cry now.
"Papa, I will go to the ball," was all she said; and Sir Harry thoughtit wiser to push matters no further for the present.
Our little party had been established in Vienna for several weeks whenthe above-mentioned conversation took place; and the De Rohans wereliving on terms of close intimacy with the Beverleys. Ropsley made nosecret of his engagement to Constance, and bestowed all the attentionsof a future husband on the unwilling girl with a tact which made escapeimpossible. Victor took his place as an old friend by her side, and sheseemed to find the more pleasure in his society that it relieved herfrom the Guardsman's sarcastic though amusing conversation, and, as Ionce overheard her remark, with a deep sigh, "reminded her of oldtimes." Valerie and I were, as usual, inseparable; but there wassomething of late in the manner of the young Countess which grated on myfeelings. She was gay, volatile, demonstrative as ever; but I missedthose fits of abstraction, that restless, preoccupied air which seems socharming when we fancy we can guess the cause; and altogether I neverwas so much in danger of falling in love with Valerie as now, when,piqued, hopeless, and miserable, I felt I was uncared for by every oneon earth--even by her. I was one too many in the party. Sir Harryseemed worldly, sharp, and in good spirits, as usual. Ropsley scheming,composed, self-contained, and successful. Victor lively, careless, andlike his former self again. Constance haughty and reserved, habituallysilent, and preserving an exterior of icy calmness. Valerie sparkling,triumphant, and _coquette_ as possible. Only Bold and I were out ofspirits; the old dog resenting with truly British energy the indignityof an enforced muzzle, without which no animal of his species wasallowed to go at large in the streets of Vienna; whilst his master waswearied and ill at ease, tired of an aimless, hopeless life, and longingfor the excitement of action, or the apathy of repose.
Such were the ingredients of the party that dined together at thatwell-known hotel rejoicing in the appellation of "Munsch," on the day ofthe masked ball, to which all Vienna meant to go, to be mystified forpleasure, and have its secrets told and its weaknesses published foramusement.
Many were the glances of admiration cast at our table, and many, I doubtnot, were the comparisons made between the stately beauty of theEnglishwoman and the brilliant charms of her Hungarian friend. I satnext to Valerie, and opposite Miss Beverley--the latter scarcely everspoke to me now, and, save a formal greeting when we met and parted,seemed completely to ignore my existence; but she tole
rated Bold, andthe dog lay curled up under the table at her feet, keeping watch andward over her--faithful Bold!--as he used to do long, long ago. Ropsleyheld forth upon the political state of Europe; and although Victor andSir Harry expressed loudly their admiration of his sentiments, and thelucid manner in which he expressed them, I have yet reason to believethat, as he spoke in English, a very garbled and eccentric translationof his remarks reached the imperial and kingly bureau of police.Constance and Valerie seemed to have some secret understanding whichcalled forth a smile even on the pale face of the former, whilst thelatter was exuberant in mirth and spirits, and was ardently anticipatingthe pleasures of the ball. I was roused from my dreamy state ofabstraction by her lively voice.
"Vere," she exclaimed, with a sly glance across the table at her friend,"we are engaged for the first dance, you know."
She always called me "Vere," now, in imitation of her brother.
"Are we?" was my somewhat ungallant reply. "I was not aware of it, I donot think I shall go to the ball."
"Not go to the ball!" exclaimed Valerie; "and I have told you the colourof my dress and everything. Not go to the ball! do you hear him,Victor? do you hear him, Sir Harry? do you hear him, Captain Ropsley?"
"We can hardly believe it," replied the latter, with a quiet smile;"but, Countess Valerie, he does not deserve your confidence: will younot tell _us_ what your dress is to be?"
"Nobody but Vere," persisted the Countess, with another arch smile atConstance; "you know he is engaged to me, at least for this evening.But he is cross and rude, and deserves to be mystified and made unhappy.But seriously, Vere, you _will_ go? Ask him, Miss Beverley; he won'trefuse _you_, although he is so ungallant towards _me_."
Constance looked up for a moment, and in a dry, measured voice, like achild repeating a lesson, said, "I hope you will go, Mr. Egerton;" andthen resumed the study of her plate, paler and more reserved than ever.
I heard Bold's tail wagging against the floor. "What have I done tooffend her," I thought, "that she will thus scarcely even deign to speakto me?" I bowed constrainedly, and said nothing; but the torture wasbeginning to get more severe than I could bear, and making an excusethat I should be late for the opera, whither none of my companions weregoing, I hurried from the table, Valerie giving me as I rose a camelliafrom her bouquet, and charging me to return it to her at the ball. "Ishall count upon you, Vere," she said, as I adjusted it in my coat, "andkeep myself disengaged."
I threaded my way through the dirty streets to the opera. I ensconcedmyself in the corner of the De Rohans' box; and resting my head on myhand, I began to reflect for the first time for many weeks on myposition and my prospects. I could not conceal from myself that I wasno longer justified in living on the terms of intimacy with Victor andhis sister which had so long constituted such an agreeable distractionin my life. It was evident that Valerie considered me in the light ofsomething more than a friend, and it was due to the lady, to herbrother, and to myself, that such a misconception should be rectified atonce and for ever. I was well aware in my heart of hearts thatConstance Beverley was still, as she would always be, the idol of mylife, but I was too proud to confess this even to myself. It wasevident that she cared no longer for the friend of her childhood, thatshe was totally indifferent as to what became of the nameless,ill-starred adventurer who had once presumed to ask her to be his; and Iground my teeth as I told myself I was too proud, far too proud, to carefor any woman that did not care for me. But I could not lead this lifeof inaction and duplicity any longer. No, I was well now, I was able towalk again (and I thought of my gentle nurse with a sigh). I would notgo to the ball to-night; I would leave Vienna to-morrow; it was farbetter not to see Miss Beverley again, better for me at least, and oughtI not to consult my own interest first? Others were selfish. I would beselfish too! Even Valerie, I had no doubt, was just like all otherwomen; she wouldn't care, not she! And yet she was a frank,open-hearted girl, too. Poor Valerie! And mechanically I placed thecamellia she had given me to my lips, and raised my eyes to examine thehouse for the first time since my entrance.
What was my surprise to remark the action I have just described imitatedexactly by a lady in a box opposite mine, but whose face was so turnedaway from me, and so masked, moreover, by a bouquet she held in herhand, that I could not identify her features, or even make out whethershe was young or old, handsome or plain! All I could see was aprofusion of rich brown hair, and a well-turned arm holding the bouquetaforesaid, with the odours of which she seemed much gratified, soperseveringly did she apply it to her face. After a short interval, Iadjusted my opera-glass and took a long survey of the flower-lovingdame. As soon as she was sure she had attracted my attention, she oncemore applied the white camellia to her lips with much energy andfervour, still, however, keeping her face as far as possible turned awayfrom me, and shaded by the curtains of her box. Three times this absurdpantomime was enacted. So strong a partiality for so scentless a floweras the camellia could not be accidental; and at last I made up my mindthat, in all probability, she mistook me for somebody else, and wouldsoon find out her error without my giving myself any further trouble onthe subject. I had too much to occupy my own mind to distress myselfvery long about the _Dame aux Camellias_; and I turned my attention tothe stage, to seek relief, if only for half-an-hour, from the thoughtsthat were worrying at my heart.
The ballet of _Sattinella_ was being enacted, and a man must have beenindeed miserable who could entirely withdraw his attention from themagnificent figure of Marie Taglioni, as she bounded about in thecharacter of that fire-born Temptress, a very impersonation of grace,symmetry, beauty, and _diablerie_. The moral of the piece is veryproperly not developed till the end, and it is too much to expect of ahuman heart that it shall sympathise with the unfortunate victim ofSatan's charming daughter as long as his tortures are confined toperforming wondrous bounds towards the footlights in her fiendishcompany, and resting her diabolical form upon his knee in the mostgraceful and bewitching attitude that was ever invented below, and sentup expressly for the delectation of a Viennese audience. Neither did Ithink the "first male dancer" very much to be pitied when he wasinveigled into a beautiful garden by moonlight, where he discovered thewhole _corps de ballet_ arranged in imitation of statues, in the mostfascinating of _poses plastiques_, and so well drilled as scarcely evento wink more than the very marble it was their part to represent. Softmusic playing the whole time, and fountains, real fountains, spoutingand splashing the entire depth of the stage, constituted the voluptuousaccessories of the scene, and it was not till the senses of thespectators had been thoroughly entranced by beauty and melody--by allthat could fascinate the eye and charm the ear, that the whole spectaclechanged to one of infernal splendour; the fountains becoming fireworks,the pure and snowy statues turning to gorgeous she-devils of the mostdiabolical beauty and fierceness, whilst Sattinella herself, appearingin a bewitching costume of crimson and flames, carried off thebewildered victim of her blandishments, to remain bound to her for everin the dominions of her satanic father.
Having once got him, it is understood that she will never let him goagain, and I could not pity him very sincerely notwithstanding.
The opera was over, the company rapidly departing, and I stood alone atthe stove in the crush-room, wondering why the house was not burnt downevery time this beautiful ballet was performed, and speculating lazilybetween whiles as to whether I was ever likely to witness an operaagain. I was one of the last spectators left in the house, and waspreparing to depart, when a female figure, cloaked and hooded, passedrapidly under my very nose, and as she did so, pressed a camellia to herlips in a manner which admitted of no misconception as to her motive. Icould not see her face, for a black satin hood almost covered it, but Irecognised the rounded arm and the handsome bouquet which I had beforeremarked in the opposite box. Of course I gave instantaneous chase, andequally of course came up with the lady before she reached her carriage.She turned round as she placed her foot
on the step, and dropped her fanupon the muddy pavement; I picked it up, and returned it to her with abow. She thanked me in French, and whispered hurriedly, "Monsieur willbe at the Redouten-Saal to-night?" I was in no humour for an adventure,and answered "No." She repeated in a marked manner, "Yes, monsieur willbe at the ball; monsieur will find himself under the gallery of theEmperor's band at midnight. _De grace_, monsieur will not refuse this_rendezvous_."
"I had not intended to go," was my unavoidable reply, "but of course toplease Madame it was my duty to make any sacrifice. I would be at theappointed place at the appointed time."
She thanked me warmly and earnestly. "She had travelled night and dayfor a week, the roads were impassable, frightful, the fatigue unheardof. She had a _migraine_, she had not slept for nights, and yet she wasgoing to this ball. I would not fail her, I would be sure to be there._Adieu_--no, _au revoir_."
So the carriage drove off, splashing no small quantity of mud over myface and toilet. As I returned to my hotel to dress, I wondered whatwas going to happen _now_.